“What if there could be a trade show where the good stuff is all there is?”

That was Good Food Awards’ founder Sarah Weiner’s eureka moment last year, when she was brainstorming ways of bringing the 150 or so winners of the annual awards to retailers’ attention. The Marketplace, a public taste-a-thon the Saturday after the awards, was great at bringing the public out to taste and compare, but the crowds of eager foodies were there to sample and schmooze, not to make deals and stock shelves. Buyers were already in town for the massive Winter Fancy Food Show, which typically began just a few days after the awards themselves. Why not create, in Weiner’s words, an industry-only “un-trade show” that could focus solely on the conscientious, locally-focused, small-scale artisans that the Good Food Awards sought to reward?

Enter Good Food Mercantile, this year’s addition to the increasingly influential Good Food Awards. Open to all past and present winners, as well as members of the Good Food Guild, it offered many advantages for smaller producers and buyers alike, from a hangover-friendly noon start time to an easily navigated intimate space. For makers, the Mercantile was a chance to talk one-on-one with buyers from the taste-making stores whose salespeople would take the time to hand-sell items they believed in; for the buyers, they could fish where the fishing was good, discovering the personal stories behind three levels of up-and-coming brands.

And for this reporter, it was a great chance to see what’s happening across the country, among makers who share sensibilities with many of the Bay Area’s craftspeople while bringing their own regional flavor into the mix. We chatted, we sampled, we probably ate too much chocolate. Here, the producers whose creations you shouldn’t miss:

From the (greater) Bay Area:

All of Fra’Mani’s suave cured meats are catnip to charcuterie lovers. But don’t overlook chef Paul Bertolli’s elegant answer to deli-counter sliced turkey, a light-and-dark-meat Turkey Galantine that would elevate any desk lunch from sad to super-special.

Fra’Mani at Good Food Mercantile – Highlight: the Turkey Galantine

No one does brunch for bros better than 4505 Meats. Because every sausagefest deserves good sausage, skip the mimosas and instead, bring on the Cheddar Bratwurst, Bacon-Studded Hot Dogs and spicy Mexican Chorizo.

And speaking of Downtown Abbey, nothing goes finer with the trials of Lady Mary’s love life (or Edith’s wandering love child) than a ruby-red glass of real Sloe Gin, the latest release from Sebastopol’s Spirit Works Distillery. Almost impossible to find in the U.S., sloe gin made by infusing gin with the bitter, plumlike fruits of the blackthorn bush to make a gorgeously scarlet, deeply warming drink that’s fruity without being sweet. Really want to polish the apple? Look for the special Barrel Reserve Sloe Gin, which boasts an extra layer of complexity gained by aging the gin in new French oak barrels for three months.

Spirit Works Distillery’s Barrel Reserve Sloe Gin

If you like Indian lime pickle, you should love, love, love Akka’s Handcrafted Food’sMeyer Lemon Tangy Relish, a beautifully balanced, appetite-piquing condiment that’s just sweet, salty, and yes, tangy enough to wake up every bite of whatever you dollop it on. It's based on a recipe that founder Lawrence Dass got from his eldest sister (“akka” means “eldest sister” in Tamil), who created her own version of a traditional Indian citrus pickle using the Meyer lemons from Dass’s backyard in Fremont.

Akka’s Meyer Lemon Tangy Relish

And now for the rest of the country:

Let's start with a spoonful (or three) of Chai-Spice Nut Butter, from Big Spoon Roasters in Durham, North Carolina. Seriously, Berkeley, why did you not think of this first? Were you too stoned? Or not stoned enough? Mark Overbay, Big Spoon’s earnest founder got the idea for his anti-Skippy spreads as a Peace Corps volunteer in rural Zimbabwe, where the annual peanut harvest was a major event. Starting with a classic natural peanut butter seasoned lightly with salt and honey, Big Spoon Roasters now makes a dozen nut-butter variations from Espresso Almond Butter (almonds and peanuts with Counter Culture espresso beans) to Southern all-stars like Peanut-Pecan Butter and Peanut Sorghum Butter. But for Bay Area tastes, there’s no beating the Chai Spice, a crunchy almond-and-peanut blend sweetened with wildflower honey and spiked with cardamom, cloves, ginger, cinnamon, vanilla, and black pepper.

Big Spoon Roasters – Highlight: Chai-Spice Nut Butter

Black currant seems to be the fruit flavor of the moment (bye, pomegranate!), so let’s celebrate with Black Dinah Chocolatiers’Cassis de Resistance, dark Venezuelan chocolate filled with black currant-infused ganache. In talking with confectioner Kate Shaffer, we discovered that she had sunny memories of her years in Santa Cruz, studying literature and waiting tables, before love sent her to the tiny Isle au Haut (year-round population: 40) off the coast of Maine, first as the chef of a country inn, then to launch her own line of chocolates. After the inn shut down, employment opportunities on the tiny island were limited. Said Kate, “I didn’t want to clean fish and I didn’t want to clean houses,” so she took her professional kitchen skills and launched Black Dinah Chocolatiers. Not surprisingly, most of her sales are online; look for Cassis de Resistance as part of her Farm Market box, a “taste of Maine” selection of chocolates flavored with rhubarb, cranberry, pumpkin, blueberry, and maple.

Black Dinah Chocolatiers – highlight Cassis de Resistance

Black Dinah Chocolates

Robyn Dochterman and Deidre Pope of St Croix Chocolate Company in Minnesota were in no hurry to get back to their single-digit winter weather. Sure, our January sunshine was a draw, but the pair also loves to visit because San Francisco is the home of their favorite bean-to-bar, fair-trade, organic chocolate, TCHO, which they use as the base for their Special-Edition Chocolate Bars molded from artist-made bas-relief tiles of wrens and blackbirds. Dochterman and Pope were also celebrating the triumph of their chocolate-dipped, Good Food Award-winning Peanut Butter and Wild Grape Jelly squares, featuring wild grapes foraged from the roadsides in their rural hometown of Marine St Croix, some 45 miles outside the Twin Cities.

Do you know an IPA drinker who has to mend his gluten-ingesting ways? Or a cider fan looking for a splash of something new? Wandering Aengus Ciderworks, of Salem, Oregon, suggests popping a can of their Anthem Hops Cider, a light, sparkling apple cider with the distinctive grassy, bitter-bright bite of hops. It’s the hefeweizen of ciders, perfect for summer with a slice of lemon (hello, Dolores Park picnics!). For grown-up cider fans who don’t need convincing, the guys from Salem have Wickson, a deliciously dry and complex single-variety made from the hard-to-find Wickson crab apples, as well as the gorgeously apple-y Bloom, which uses an ice-concentrated blend of sweet, bitter, and bittersharp apples (all Oregon-grown) to fill a glass with autumn sunshine.

And speaking of drinking, let’s raise a last glass to Good Food Award-winners Sook Goh and Roslynn Tellvik of Raft Syrups, in Portland, Oregon, makers of inventive, flavorful botanical cocktail and soda syrups. Use them in cocktails or mocktails, drizzle them over fruit, use them to sweeten your tea. Our favorite? The Smoked Tea Vanilla, made from smoky lapsong souchong tea, and tasting very much like a single-malt Islay Scotch, minus the bite (and buzz). A perfect treat for any non-drinker missing their peaty tipple, and a nice change from the usual fruity-sweet offerings for alcohol-skippers. Also on their roster: a fragrant Hibiscus Lavender, and an intensely ginger-y Lemon Ginger.

Generations of little girls have watched the ebullient Shirley Temple light up Depression-era black and white films, her glossy curls bouncing and her voice chirping. Generations, too, developed a taste for the Shirley Temple drink — traditionally, ginger ale with a dash of grenadine, maraschino cherry and lemon for garnish.

The drink, it seems, has a shelf life as long as her movies.

That’s because the saccharine beverage in a girly pinkish hue has long embodied glamour in a glass for tweens and the younger set.

A Classic Shirley Temple. Photo: iStockphoto

Many of us have since outgrown such sweet beverages. But as the world mourns Temple’s death, we are reminded of how many people connected with her — not just through her movies but through her namesake drink. Just check Twitter to see how many people are toasting Temple, who eventually became Temple Black, with a Shirley Temple in their hand.

Now we have a name for such drinks: the mocktail. They’ve evolved into child-friendly versions of adult tipples — faux champagne, the smartini and the virgin margarita.

But the original mocktail, so the story goes, is the Shirley Temple.

There’s a variety of competing claims out there about the drink’s origins. Several restaurants and hotels in Beverly Hills, and even Hawaii, say they invented the drink for Temple when she visited with her parents.

But Temple Black once told NPR’s Scott Simon: “Yes, well, those were created in the 1930s by the Brown Derby Restaurant in Hollywood, and I had nothing to do with it.”

Still, she was quite proud — and protective — of the drink that bears her name. According toMental Floss, Temple twice went to court to defend the drink against companies attempting to use her name to sell a bottled version.

Sweltering, melting: that was the rest of the country last week, while on the top of Bernal Hill we were waving hello to Karl the Fog. Not that we get fogbound here, high up on the sunny side of the hill, but we like to watch our buddy Karl blanketing the rest of the city as the crochet hook of Sutro Tower pokes up through that wooly afghan of low-hanging cloud unrolling eastward from Ocean Beach.

And now that we all know that Ruth Bourdain is some guy from New Jersey and retired-soldier-turned-detective-novelist Richard Gilbraith is really J.K. Rowling, is it only a matter of time (and Twitter tip-offs) before Karl’s mastermind is outed? I hope not, actually; I like greeting Karl every time I cross the Golden Gate Bridge, and I don’t think I can handle another JT LeRoy, even just a meteorological one.

At least, not without a drink. And not just any drink, but a pink drink, a perfect-for-summer drink, a cool-down, sun-down cocktail for warm summer weather wherever you can find it: on the shores of Tahoe or Clear Lake, along the Russian River, or under a tulip tree in your own Oakland backyard.

Pink wines, of course, are my first go-to drink of summer, no matter how these snooty industry types may roll their eyes. Here in the city, of course, we can keep drinking rosé right through October, since according to the thermometer, we can count the weeks before Halloween as a little extra summer, gracefully bestowed upon us for shivering through Fogust’s chill.

Readers who’ve been following me here for the past few years know my fondness for local pinks, including Sinskey Vin Gris, Unti Rosé, and Bonny Doon Vin Gris de Cigare. But these days I’ve got a new shady-table favorite, Scherrer Winery Dry Rosé 2012. Now in its second release, it’s a perfect white linen suit of a wine, the first bottle to empty at every get-together I’ve thrown this summer from a Fourth of July barbecue to an al fresco birthday party.

Having spent a good chunk of this year writing The Art of Vintage Cocktails (which will be published this fall), I also can’t resist the lure of a good mixologist. There are rosy drinks worth a sip on the new “aperitif hour” menu at Range, including the Spanish Bramble made with a housemade blackberry shrub (a tart, vinegar-based fruit drink) as well as the Paris to Milan, featuring Cocchi Americano Rosa, the pink version of this cult-favorite vermouth.

You can ferment your own Watermelon Mint Soda, or whip up a slushy Sandia from frozen watermelon and lime sugar, with or without a healthy slug of tequila. Pink Sangria is braced with Lillet Rose, another pink vermouth, and a Cucumber Cooler misted with rosewater, tastes like the essence of a summer garden afternoon. With white peaches filling the farmers’ market, now’s the perfect time to make a real Venetian Bellini–Lake Merritt has gondolas, doesn’t it?

And finally, this being San Francisco, there’s the Pirate Jenny, perfect for snuggling up under a summer blanket, binging on Orange is the New Black and listening to the foghorns moan.

Sip #1: Pink Sangria

There’s red sangria, white sangria–why not pink sangria? If you’re making this ahead of time, wait to put the fruit in until just before serving, so that it won’t get squishy and soggy. Use a proper but not pricey rosé, preferably one of Spanish provenance. Lillet Rose is a French aperitif, similar to vermouth; recently added to the Lillet product line, it’s the delicate, rosy-hued little sister of the more commonly seen Lillet Blanc.

Makes 6-8 drinks

Ingredients:

1 bottle (750 ml) dry rosé, chilled

1/2 cup Lillet Rose

1 cup freshly squeezed orange juice

2 tablespoons lime juice, divided

1 orange, cut into thin rounds

2 white peaches, pitted and thinly sliced

1 pint raspberries, loganberries, or blackberries

Soda water, if desired

Instructions:
In a large pitcher, combine wine, Lillet, and orange juice. Add half the lime juice and taste for balance, adding remainder if needed. Chill until needed.

Just before serving, add a handful of ice cubes. Stir in the orange slices, peaches, and berries. Top with a generous splash of soda water, if desired.

Sip #2: Sandia

This is deliciously refreshing twist on the sandia agua fresca served in big waxed-paper cups at every taqueria this time of year. It’s deliciously refreshing, with or without the tequila. (If you’re not a tequila drinker, use chilled vodka instead, or leave it out entirely for a nonalcoholic version.) The trick to getting the texture right–slushy but not too solid–is to freeze the watermelon until it’s just beginning to solidify. Don’t let it get rock-hard, otherwise your drinks will be too thick.

Lime Sugar

This makes more than you need for the recipe above, but face it: you’re going to be making several rounds, so you might as well have extra on hand.

Ingredients:

1 cup granulated sugar

3 limes

Instructions:
Using a microplane, finely zest the 3 limes, i.e., grate off only the colored part of the rind, leaving as much as possible of the white pith behind.

Mix the lime zest into the sugar, stirring vigorously until the sugar is completely impregnated with the lime. Store in a jar with a tightly fitting lid until needed.

Sip #3: Cucumber Rose Cooler

On a singularly balmy evening last month, I walked into Blackbird on Market Street craving a long, lime-tinged drink cool as a cucumber with a bit of fizz. Hearing my request, the bartender shook up this cucumber cooler, adding a touch of summer perfume by spritzing the glass with a mist of rosewater before pouring in the drink. Lovely. Hendrick’s gin, with its subtle overtones of rose and cucumber, makes a perfect match.

Ingredients:

2-inch piece of cucumber, roughly chopped

2 oz Hendrick’s gin

juice of 1 lime

1 tsp simple syrup, optional

Rosewater, in a spray mister if possible

Soda water

Lime slice and cucumber wheel, for garnish

Instructions:
In a shaker, muddle the cucumber chunks with lime juice and simple syrup, if desired. Add gin and a handful of ice cubes. Shake vigorously.

Mist or rinse a chilled Collins glass with rosewater. Half fill with ice cubes. Strain into glass. Top with soda. Garnish with lime slice and cucumber wheel.

Sip #4: White Peach Bellini

Peach season opens the window for making authentically Venice-worthy Bellinis. Yes, they were a mid-20th century invention at Harry’s Bar on the Lido, but did you know the name came in honor of 15th century Venetian painter Giovanni Bellini? Made with white peaches and Prosecco, the delicately creamy-pink drink was meant to evoke the luscious flesh tones in Bellini’s paintings. A little culture to go with your aperitivi!

Ingredients:

1 bottle Prosecco, chilled

3 ripe white peaches, peeled

Instructions:
Puree the peaches. If desired, push puree through a fine mesh strainer for extra smoothness.

Add a splash of Prosecco to each glass. Spoon in a generous spoonful of peach puree. Fill glass with Prosecco, pouring slowly since wine will fizz up when it hits the puree.

Sip #5: Pirate Jenny

And finally, what’s an appropriately warming San Francisco summer drink when the fog horns are moaning and the winds are whipping along Clement Street? This rum-based cocktail gets its complexity and island spice from two Caribbean-inspired liqueurs: Velvet falernum, a classic rum-based liqueur from Barbados that’s scented with lime, cloves, ginger, almond, and vanilla (which I can describe only as smelling, gorgeously, like God’s own aftershave) and artisan distillers Jack from Brooklyn’s Sorel Liqueur, which gets its tang and ravishing magenta color from hibiscus flowers, known in Jamaica as sorrel.

Ingredients:

1 1/2 oz aged golden or dark rum

1 oz Sorel Liqueur

1 oz velvet falernum

1/2 oz freshly squeezed lime juice

1 dash bitters

Instructions:
Fill an old-fashioned (rocks) glass with several large ice cubes. Add ingredients and stir well.

Last year, my husband picked up a nasty little habit — a drinking problem, if you will. Yes, he became addicted to sparkling water. All of a sudden, he was adding mineral water to my weekly grocery list and buying precious little green bottles imported from Italy every time we grabbed a sandwich.

My penny-pinching sensibility and my eco-guilt were less than thrilled about this new high-roller lifestyle. I mean, who did he think he was, Jay-Z? So when Christmas rolled around, under the tree was a shiny SodaStream soda maker, a cost-effective and environmentally responsible way to add carbonation to plain, old water.

Truth be told, it seemed like everyone we knew already had a SodaStream. I don’t know how it’s selling in Chattanooga or Cleveland, but in Washington, D.C., this fancy-pants gadget was already gracing the kitchen counters of many friends.

Like all kids, I loved sodas when I was little. But as I got older, my sweet tooth lessened dramatically. So when we opened the box and pulled out a “bonus” pack of syrup samples to flavor our soda, the wheels started turning. I immediately stashed the sample pack in the back of the pantry and started dreaming of homemade syrups that could take their place. The idea of making my own sodas had many appeals: I could control the level of sweetness; I could make more interesting flavor combinations; and I could leave out things that I prefer to limit (such as dyes and artificial sweeteners).

Chefs and mixologists have been pushing the envelope with soda recipes since the craft cocktail movement surfaced a few years back. Shrubs and switchels, early versions of soft drinks that include vinegar among the ingredients, also have been making a comeback at local bars and online, and I’ve noticed a fair number of restaurants offering interesting house-made sodas.

“We take our inspiration from cooking first, I guess,” says Keith Garabedian, chef-owner of Philadelphia’s Hot Diggity. His hot dog shop, which uses locally farmed ingredients to dress up its dogs, decided last year to start brewing its own sodas, as well. “Watermelon, basil and meadow mints — that’s like a salad you would find with feta cheese,” he says of one of his soda flavors.

Other intriguing concoctions of his include beet and berry; tarragon and green grape; cucumber, elderberry and lavender; and — one of Garabedian’s favorites — an heirloom tomato sangrita. He has even done a PBJ soda using dehydrated peanut butter and Concord grape juice with a sugar-chili rim. “Soda is just fizzy water. It doesn’t have to follow any rules,” he says. “Our regulars, as soon as we have a new flavor, they’re just going to order it to see what they’re like, expand their horizons.”

Garabedian uses a keg or a soda siphon for his soft drinks, but he still has a lot of tips that can work for the SodaStream set. For instance, he doesn’t usually make fruit-based syrups, opting to use a juicer to avoid cooking the freshness out of the fruit. And if you don’t have access to ripe, in-season ingredients, you could simply muddle cilantro and jalapeno with some lime juice, add simple syrup and soda water to taste, and you’ve got something interesting and refreshing that you’ll never find in a can.

If your interests skew toward mine, it doesn’t take long to realize that many of these flavors sound like a cocktail. Indeed, they are all delightfully spikeable. For instance, a vanilla and Earl Gray Italian cream soda recipe was crying out for some dark rum or whiskey, both of which work very well. And blackberry-rosemary shrub actually tasted more balanced with a splash of gin.

Since most soda recipes take little time, effort and money, it’s a cinch to channel the spirit of Garabedian’s adventurous customers and try something new. So go ahead — expand your horizons.

Recipe: Vanilla And Earl Grey Italian Cream Soda

This recipe, adapted from one shared on the food blog Food52, mixes well with dark rum and whiskey, although adding them dials down the bergamot flavor of the tea and amps up the vanilla-caramel tones. And while the Earl Gray gives it a grown-up spin, little ones still lap it up.

Vanilla And Earl Grey Italian Cream Soda. Photo: Rina Rapuano for NPR

Makes 1 1/2 cups of syrup

1 vanilla bean, halved and split

1 cup sugar

3-4 bags of Earl Grey tea

1 cup water

Soda water

Half-and-half or whole milk

To make the simple syrup, combine the vanilla bean and sugar in a small saucepan. Rub the vanilla bean into the sugar with the back of a spoon until the mixture is fragrant. Add the tea bags and water. Cook over medium-low heat and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Turn up the heat to medium and bring the mixture to a gentle boil. Turn off the heat, and use tongs to remove the tea bags right away to avoid bitterness. Allow syrup to cool before using.

To make the soda, fill an 8-ounce glass with ice. Fill three-quarters full with soda water. Add 1/8 to 1/4 cup syrup, depending on desired sweetness. Top with half-and-half and more soda, if desired.

Recipe: Blackberry Shrub

Blogger KitchenKonfidence.com adapted this from a recipe that originally used this syrup as a twist on a kir royale. Gin, cava and vodka would all benefit from an ounce or two of this interesting elixir. Its tart, woodsy flavor is a bright, refreshing combo, but I caution you to go easy on the rosemary since it packs such a strong punch. For a kid version, I’d probably leave out the vinegar and adapt it into a blackberry-lime syrup or even blackberry-lavender, if you want to keep it herbal.

Blackberry Shrub. Photo: Rina Rapuano for NPR

Makes about 4 cups of syrup

2 3/4 cups blackberries

3 cups water

1 1/2 cups white sugar

3/4 cup good quality balsamic vinegar

3 sprigs of rosemary

Add blackberries, water and sugar to a medium saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, then reduce heat and simmer until the berries are soft, 10 to 15 minutes. Stir occasionally with a wooden spoon, slightly mashing the berries each time you stir.

Pour the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve then return to the saucepan. Discard solids. Add balsamic vinegar and rosemary sprigs. Cook over medium-low, bringing the mixture to a slow boil. Once it hits the slow boil, remove from heat and remove the rosemary sprigs. Let cool, then transfer to a pitcher or bottle. Refrigerate before using.

To make the soda, fill a 10-ounce glass with ice and pour soda about 3/4 of the way up. Top with 1 ounce of syrup, stir and add more syrup or soda to taste.

Recipe: Corn And Lime Soda

To be completely honest, this recipe — adapted from Keith Garabedian of the hot dog restaurant Hot Diggity — is fairly labor intensive. (And I admit it: I used frozen corn instead of cutting 5 pounds of kernels from who knows how many corn cobs.) But I wanted to offer a recipe that used a soda siphon, and I was able to borrow one from D.C.-area cocktail pioneer Todd Thrasher of Restaurant Eve and The Majestic in Alexandria, Va. (He also makes such sodas as grapefruit juniper for the restaurants.) While it’s a lot of work, I think you’ll find the creamy, sweet-tart combination worth the effort.

Corn And Lime Soda. Photo: Rina Rapuano for NPR

Makes 1 liter

3 1/2 cups water

3/4 cup sugar

5 pounds fresh corn kernels

1 cup fresh lime juice

Combine the water, sugar and corn kernels in a pot. Bring to a gentle simmer for 3 minutes, just enough to take the rawness out of the corn. Let the mixture cool completely.

Puree the corn and water mixture in a blender or food processor in batches. Strain through cheesecloth over a fine-mesh sieve into a glass measuring cup to extract the corn water until you have enough liquid — including the 1 cup of lime juice — to make a liter. Discard the solids.

Pour corn-lime mixture into a soda siphon and charge with one CO2 cartridge. Store in the refrigerator for two to three days to allow the carbonation to absorb. Dispense from the siphon to serve. If it’s not fizzy enough, try charging with a second CO2 cartridge.

Recipe: Orange-Honey Ginger Ale

On the rare occasion that I buy soda, it’s a good, spicy ginger ale with actual ginger in it. This recipe was adapted from Homemade Soda by Andrew Schloss (Storey Publishing, 2011), and it’s a fun interpretation of a classic. First you taste the honey, then the hint of orange, then the spice of the ginger kicks in. Dark and Stormy fans won’t be surprised that dark rum works well here.

Orange-Honey Ginger Ale. Photo: Rina Rapuano for NPR

Makes 4 cups of syrup

Syrup

4 cups water, preferably filtered

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

6 tablespoons mild honey, such as orange blossom

1 1/2 ounces fresh ginger root, peeled and grated (about 1/4 cup)

Freshly squeezed juice of half an orange

Soda

1/3 cup of syrup

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed orange juice

3/4 cups seltzer

For the syrup, combine the water, sugar, honey, ginger and orange juice in a large saucepan over medium heat, stirring to combine. Cook, stirring occasionally until the sugar dissolves, then reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for 30 minutes. Remove from the heat. Let cool for 30 minutes, then strain through a fine-mesh strainer into a separate container, pressing to extract as much liquid as possible. Discard the solids and refrigerate.

To make the drink, pour syrup and orange juice into a tall glass filled halfway with ice. Top with the seltzer and stir just until blended.

About The Author
Rina Rapuano is a freelance food writer and restaurant reviewer based in Washington, D.C. She writes regularly for the Food Network’s CityEats site and Capitol File magazine, and has written extensively for The Washington Post’s Food section and Washingtonian magazine. When she’s not dragging her husband and two kids to area restaurants, she’s usually in the kitchen cooking, baking or sneaking a cookie. Find Rapuano on Twitter at @rinarap.

Rhubarb — like spring itself — is fleeting and lovely. A vegetable that often masquerades as a fruit in sweet dishes, it is a true harbinger of the season, appearing in April and, if we’re lucky, lasting until July. But it is best to seize rhubarb’s moment and take full advantage as soon as its delicate pink and green ribs start appearing in markets and gardens.

Last year I became enamored — nay, obsessed — with the classic combination of strawberries and rhubarb, turning out at least two-dozen jars of jam over the course of a few weeks. I stockpiled rhubarb from the farmers market and my mother-in-law’s garden, either tucking it immediately into cakes or pies or chopping up the ribs and freezing them for later use. (Rhubarb both freezes and thaws beautifully, making it handy to store for when it’s out of season and you need a fix.)

Rhubarb stalks. Photo: Nicole Spiridakis for NPR

I will on occasion take a taste of rhubarb in its raw form — reminiscent in appearance, though not in taste, to celery — while preparing it for use. I actually recommend this at least once in a lifetime: To really taste rhubarb’s mouth-puckering sourness before stewing it down with sugar is not an unpleasant experience. And allowing a hint of that bracing flavor to sing through is a wonderful foil to pork or poultry.

(You could also try dipping pieces of rhubarb into little dishes of honey or sugar and consuming them raw, though I will admit this is an acquired taste.)

Still, I especially love to temper rhubarb’s tartness into something a bit mellower with the addition of honey, particularly in jams or compotes, which is the perfect complement to the earthy, delicate flavor of this vegetable-slash-fruit.

Rhubarb is readily available during spring and early summer; the Pacific Northwest has a second harvest between June and July so it may linger longer there. I have seen rhubarb growing into late August in Northern California, though that typically depends on how much rainfall the state has seen during the previous winter. Hothouse rhubarb is grown year-round, but I like to seize its moment in the sun and appreciate it more for its short tenure.

If you grow your own rhubarb, make sure to discard the leaves before cooking because they are toxic (if you buy rhubarb stalks in a market you won’t have to worry about this). Wash the stalks well before using, and trim any woody ends. Rhubarb is a source of calcium, manganese, vitamin C, vitamin K, fiber and antioxidants, making that flaky piece of rhubarb-mint pie even more appealing.

I came to fully appreciate rhubarb’s charm a year ago when I spent the weekend at my parents’ place in Sebastopol, Calif. My mom mentioned that her Scottish grandmother had made rhubarb compote after she immigrated to the States, serving her grandchildren bright red bowls of the stuff in season. I decided to try my own hand at it, buying rhubarb for the first time in my life at the local farmers market. I liked the idea of channeling that unknown relative decades later in a California kitchen.

As it turned out, my mom’s taste for rhubarb had waned over the years (perhaps I didn’t use enough sugar for her taste), but I was hooked. From simply stewing rhubarb and spooning it generously over slices of pound cake to creating more elaborate desserts such as strawberry-rhubarb hand pies and even incorporating sliced and sauteed rhubarb into a quinoa salad, I couldn’t get enough. But really the possibilities are limitless: Substitute rhubarb sprinkled with sugar in your favorite muffin or scone recipe, stir heaping tablespoons of jam into your morning oatmeal, make a gloriously messy and juicy crumble, or cook it down to make a bright pink simple syrup that’s lovely in alcoholic or nonalcoholic cocktails.

Though I don’t have my great-grandmother’s recipe for compote and though we never met, it’s clear we share an affinity for the pink-green stalks. If only there was a notebook hidden away somewhere, stained with drips of cooked rhubarb and full of secrets. Lacking that, there is my imagination, my kitchen and a few more months of rhubarb season.

Recipe: Rhubarb-Quinoa Salad

A salad with rhubarb might seem strange — rhubarb is most often used in sweet dishes — but it works surprisingly well here when sauteed with a little honey and olive oil. Salty feta punctuates bowls of fluffy quinoa that contain just a hint of sweetness from the rhubarb. Toasted almonds lend a bit of crunch to keep things interesting.

Rhubarb-Quinoa Salad. Photo: Nicole Spiridakis for NPR

Makes 6 servings

Ingredients:

Quinoa

1 1/4 cups white quinoa, rinsed

6 cups water

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon honey

1 bunch scallions, thinly sliced, white parts only

5 ribs rhubarb, washed and sliced into 1/4-inch pieces

3 to 4 cups baby arugula

1 cup feta cheese

1/2 cup chopped fresh mint

1/2 cup sliced almonds, toasted

Dressing

1/3 cup olive oil

1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

3 teaspoons tahini

Salt and pepper

Instructions:
Rinse the quinoa in three changes of cold water to remove any bitter coating. Put the water in a large pot, salt it and bring to a boil. Add the quinoa and cook for 7 to 8 minutes, until just slightly tender.

Drain the quinoa through a sieve and then set the sieve over an inch of simmering water in the same pot. (Make sure the water doesn’t touch the bottom of the sieve.) Cover the quinoa with a folded kitchen towel and cover the whole thing with a lid. Steam until the quinoa is tender, fluffy and dry, about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and let stand, still covered, for another 3 to 5 minutes. Place in a medium bowl and fluff with a fork.

In a frying pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the honey and stir to combine. Add the scallions and rhubarb and saute for 5 to 7 minutes, until rhubarb is tender. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature.

In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil, vinegar, tahini and a pinch of salt and pepper. Add the cooled quinoa, the scallions and rhubarb, and the rest of the ingredients; toss and stir gently to coat with the dressing. Serve cold or at room temperature.

Recipe: Strawberry-Rhubarb Hand Pies

If I don’t consume these little beauties immediately, I like to pop one or two in the toaster oven to crisp up the crust the next day. Sweet but not too, and with a thick, jammy filling, these hand-held delights have become my go-to summer treat.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Hand Pies. Photo: Nicole Spiridakis for NPR

Makes about 12 pies

Ingredients:

Crust

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup olive oil

1 large egg, lightly beaten

3 to 5 tablespoons ice water

Filling

2 cups fresh strawberries, hulled and quartered

3 ribs rhubarb, washed, trimmed and cut into 1/4-inch pieces

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

2 tablespoons honey

1 tablespoon cornstarch

For Finishing

1 large egg

3 tablespoons coarse sugar

Instructions:
For the dough, in a large bowl, whisk together flours, sugar, baking powder and salt.

Cut in the olive oil and whisk and blend with a fork until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add the beaten egg and whisk into the flour mixture with the fork.

Add ice water, 1 tablespoon at a time, tossing with a fork after each addition. Add enough water so the dough sticks together without being crumbly. The dough will be a bit wetter than regular pie dough.

Divide dough into two pieces, flatten into disks about 1-inch thick, wrap well with plastic wrap and refrigerate for about an hour.

In a large, heavy saucepan, combine the strawberries, rhubarb, sugar, honey and cornstarch and stir to mix well.

Place over medium heat and cook until thickened and bubbly, stirring frequently, about 5 to 10 minutes.

Remove from heat, cover and chill along with dough until ready to use.

When ready to assemble the pies, preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a baking sheet (or two if necessary) with parchment paper.

Remove dough from refrigerator one disk at a time. Knead dough on a lightly floured surface a few times.

Roll out, using a little flour to prevent sticking, to about a 1/4-inch thickness. Cut into 3 1/2-inch rounds with a large biscuit cutter. (You will get about 6 rounds out of each disk of dough.)

Roll each round out to about 6 inches in diameter and about 1/8 inch thick (or to a width that you prefer).

In a small bowl, beat the egg. Using a pastry brush or your finger, run a line of egg wash along the edge of each piece of dough, going halfway around the circle.

Mound a generous tablespoonful of filling in the center of each piece of dough. Fold dough in half over the filling and press with your fingers to seal. Crimp edges with the tines of a fork.

Transfer pies to the prepared baking sheets. Brush the top of each pie with the beaten egg and sprinkle with the coarse sugar. Poke a few holes in the top of each pie with a fork or the tip of a sharp knife.

Bake for 18 to 22 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and filling is slightly bubbly and oozing out of the holes. Remove from oven and let cool slightly before serving. Serve warm.

Recipe: Rhubarb Scones

These scones make your entire kitchen smell of summer and slow, lazy mornings with sun streaming through your windows and the whole day laid bare ahead for dreaming. That feeling lingers long after the last crumb has been devoured. I used whole wheat pastry flour here exclusively, but if that’s not to your taste, either use 3 cups all-purpose flour or substitute 1 1/2 cups all-purpose for 1 1/2 cups of the whole wheat flour. Eat scones warm with good butter and a thick smear of jam.

Rhubarb Scones. Photo: Nicole Spiridakis for NPR

Makes 12 to 16 scones

Ingredients:
6 stalks rhubarb, washed and sliced into 1/4-inch ribs, then cut the ribs in half

2 tablespoons honey

3 cups whole wheat pastry flour

1/4 cup granulated sugar plus more for sprinkling on top

2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

3/4 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces

1 large egg, lightly beaten

3/4 cup cold buttermilk plus 3 tablespoons butter for brushing on top of scones before baking

Instructions:
Heat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

Place the rhubarb in a medium bowl and drizzle with the honey. Let stand for at least 10 minutes.

In a large bowl, sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and salt. Cut in butter with a fork and, using the fork and your fingers, whisk and cut in the butter until mixture resembles a coarse meal.

In a small bowl, whisk together the egg and buttermilk. Add to flour mixture all at once, stirring enough to make a soft dough. Fold in the fruit.

Turn out onto a floured board and knead about 15 times. Roll or pat out to a 1-inch thickness.

Cut into 2-inch rounds using a round cutter or cut into 2-by-2-inch squares. (I used a small jam jar, which resulted in 16 scones.) Reshape and roll dough to create more scones with excess scraps. Place on the baking sheet. Brush lightly with the 3 tablespoons of buttermilk and sprinkle with granulated sugar.

Place in oven and bake for 15 to 18 minutes, or until golden brown on top. Serve warm.

Recipe: Rhubarb Compote

This is a fairly loose recipe, mostly because I firmly believe that we all have different “sweet tastes,” and while rhubarb certainly is quite sour when eaten on its own — which is why no one does – I don’t think it needs to be overly sugared. It’s good to start conservatively, taste and add more as necessary. I used a mix of honey and brown sugar here, and I love the mellow sweetness the honey imparts. Of course, add more or less sugar to appeal to your own taste. Serve compote with slices of cake, on top of ice cream or stirred into yogurt.

Instructions:
In a heavy saucepan, toss the rhubarb with the honey, brown sugar, lemon juice and vanilla. Bring to a slow boil over medium heat and stir, making sure the honey and sugar dissolve, for about 5 minutes. Lower the heat and simmer for about 7 minutes until mixture is thick and smooth. Taste occasionally and add a bit more sugar if you wish.

Remove from heat and let cool.

Recipe: A Boozy (Or Not) Rhubarb Cocktail

I came up with this cocktail last spring in my quest to incorporate rhubarb into as many dishes as I could. My husband loves a gin and tonic, so I created my own version using a rhubarb simple syrup that contrasts wonderfully with the sharp bite of the alcohol. I’ve also given directions for a nonalcoholic drink that I find wonderfully refreshing on hot (and cool) days.

Boozy (Or Not) Rhubarb Cocktail. Photo: Nicole Spiridakis for NPR

Rhubarb Simple Syrup

Makes about 2 cups

Ingredients:
4 stalks rhubarb, chopped

1 cup honey or sugar

1 cup water

Instructions:
In a heavy saucepan over moderately high heat, bring rhubarb, honey or sugar, and water to a boil. Lower heat and simmer for 15 minutes until rhubarb is softened. Strain mixture, mashing rhubarb to extract as much liquid from it as possible (discard solids). Allow to cool, and transfer to a jar. Store in the refrigerator for up to 3 weeks.

The R + G (The Rhubarb + Gin)

Makes 1 serving

Ingredients:
2 ounces gin

6 ounces sparkling water

2 ounces rhubarb simple syrup

Juice of 1/2 lime

Lime slice

Instructions:
Mix all ingredients in a tall glass, add ice and garnish with a slice of lime.

The R (The Rhubarb)

Makes 1 serving

Ingredients:
Sparkling water

Rhubarb simple syrup

Lime slice

Instructions:
Pour the water into a tall glass and stir in as much syrup as you like. Garnish with the lime slice.

About The Author
Nicole Spiridakis lives in San Francisco and writes about food, travel and her native state on her blog, cucinanicolina.com. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, chow.com and other publications.

The other night at work, I watched as a fellow server carried a tray of cocktails to one of his tables. On that tray were three beverages known as Shirley Temples.

As he passed me, I commented with mock indignance, “Poor Jane Withers, no one ever named a drink after her. It’s always Shirley, Shirley, Shirley.”

Which was exactly what was happening as I spoke the words. One Shirley, two Shirley, three Shirleys down…

So I resolved then and there to create a drink in Jane Withers’ honor to make up for nearly seven decades-worth of slight.

For those of you not well-versed in Depression-Era (the 1930’s version, not the present one) pop culture, Jane Withers gained fame as Shirley Temple’s nemesis in a film or two, most notably in Bright Eyes. Meaner, bigger, and less endearing, she was still entertaining enough to hold her own against Miss Temple. And if I have to explain to you who Shirley Temple is, I am going to cry.

Just watch and you’ll see what I mean:

When I got home, I thought about what to make and came up blank. Who even remembers Jane Withers anymore, except me, I mean? Should I just simply do a take-off of a Shirley Temple? Would I add bitters? Make it taller? I was frustrated. There is little pay-off in naming anything after a child who lived her early years in Miss Temple’s enormous career shadow.

I needed a drink.

And, suddenly, there was the answer. I decided then and there to forget all about Miss Withers and create an adult beverage in honor of the infinitely more famous Miss Temple. I know what you’re thinking– I’m a star-(expletive)er.

Well, I guess you’re right. I am a star-(expletive)er (never, mind you, in a literal sense). And why not? Shirley Temple the mega-child star transitioned successfully into adulthood as Shirley Temple Black– wife, mother, representative to the United Nations General Assembly (Nixon), the first female Chief of Protocol of the United States (Carter), and U.S. Ambassador to both Ghana (Ford) and Czechoslovakia (Bush the Elder). If anyone has earned a good, stiff drink, it is she.

Shirley Temple Black

The Shirley Temple is far-and-away the most popular “kiddie cocktail” in the world– fitting that it was named for the most popular child actor to have ever existed.

The original Shirley Temple drink was, as one rumor has it, created by a bartender at The Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Honolulu in the 1930’s– a place Miss Temple visited with her family many times.

It is a non-alcoholic beverage made with ginger ale or some sort of lemon-lime soda, grenadine syrup, a garnish of maraschino cherries and a slice of orange. The Canadians love to add a splash of orange juice, and so do I– it just makes the thing that much more wholesome, which is something Canadians know all about. After all, they did send us the original America’s Sweetheart, Mary Pickford. Miss Pickford, if you didn’t know, served as the hairstyle inspiration for Miss Temple. No Pickford, no Curly Top.

The whole notion of kiddie cocktails centers around their ability to allow children to participate somewhat benignly in adult cocktail culture– preparing them in a sense for their futures as alcohol-swigging grown-ups to whom they look up, both physically and morally.

Maybe they’re not so benign, after all.

The idea of the Shirley Temple Black is entirely upside down. It is a drink that allows me to mix and mingle with the wee ‘uns from time to time without having them point at my Manhattan and ask what’s in it. With an innocent-looking, yet boozy Shirley Temple Black, I can gently tone down those shrieks of bouncy castle delight, or steel myself for the twenty-seventh consecutive screening of Thomas the Tank Engine more or less unnoticed.

At the next children’s party I am obliged to attend, when the host or hostess asks me what I’m having, you know my answer’s going to be:

“I’ll have a Shirley Temple, and make it Black.”

Makes One Deceptive Little Cocktail

Ingredients

1 ounce white rum

1/2 ounce Maraschino liqueur

A splash of grenadine

A splash of fresh orange juice

Ginger Beer

Crushed ice

Orange zest or a slice of orange for garnish.

Preparation:

Fill a highball or double old fashioned glass with crushed ice. Pour in rum, maraschino liqueur, grenadine, and splash of orange juice. Fill to near the top, but not brimming (remember, there are children present whose motor skills aren’t yet finely tuned) with Ginger Beer and garnish with orange.

Drink immediately to bring your own motor skills closer the the level of the precious little ones.

Variation: The Jane Withers

Just like a Roy Rogers is the classic cola-based alter ego of a Shirley Temple, I felt the Shirley Temple Black was in need of a foil. Feeling guilty that I was turning away from the woman I had originally intended to honor, my friend Rebecca suggested this drink might be delicious with a slug of rye instead of rum.

Of course she would say that– her boyfriend is an amazing mixologist.

So here you go, Miss Withers– a drink created especially for you:

The Jane Withers

It’s kickier than a Shirley Temple Black, and guaranteed to unclog your pipes faster than Josephine the Plumber.

To make a Jane Withers, simply substitute rye for rum.

And we’re done. I hope everybody’s happy.

]]>http://blogs.kqed.org/bayareabites/2010/03/26/ill-have-a-shirley-temple-and-make-it-black/feed/5Shirley Temple Black CocktailWhite Peach Lemonadehttp://blogs.kqed.org/bayareabites/2009/07/12/white-peach-lemonade/
http://blogs.kqed.org/bayareabites/2009/07/12/white-peach-lemonade/#commentsSun, 12 Jul 2009 15:34:37 +0000http://blogs.kqed.org/bayareabites/?p=5192LA Coffee Mill, tres chic in Silverlake, does a very fabulous morning mojito, made with muddled mint and lime in a a base of chilled green tea, topped with a splash of soda water. It's tangy, refreshing, and very post-Pilates. But what if you want something a little more lush, a little more beignet-friendly? Welcome to your new favorite brunch drink: white peach Meyer lemonade. ]]>

Oh, has it come to this? Can we not break out of the orange-juice rut, spread our wings and flap a little, veer a little to the right or left in our quest for a morning pick-me-up that lets you down easy. Personally, I like to be able to recall my name and address (and yours) post-frittata, rather than ending up in the Jacuzzi at 5pm with three pairs of new shoes and no idea how I got there.

The LA Coffee Mill, très chic in Silverlake, does a very fabulous morning mojito, made with muddled mint and lime in a a base of chilled green tea, topped with a splash of soda water. It’s tangy and refreshing, very post-Pilates. But what if you want something a little more lush, a little more beignet-friendly? Welcome to your new favorite brunch drink: white peach Meyer lemonade.

Now Meyer lemons, which really should be growing in your backyard if you have one, and in your friends’ backyards if not, make the most flagrantly, fragrantly delicious lemonade.

But with white peaches and nectarines in full sugary swing now, you can one-up even Meyer lemonade by adding a little pale and luscious peach puree, turning your lemonade into a coral-colored quaff even better than a Bellini.

Anytime you buy white-fleshed stone fruit, you know a few of these dainty little princesses are going to get bruised on the way home. But hard knocks don’t matter to a puree. Pit your peaches and throw them in the blender or food processor. (Or just thwap the heck out of them with a potato masher.) Drip the puree through a fine-mesh strainer into your lemonade, so you get all the lovely tequila-sunrise color with none of the skin.

A very good trick, when you have the time, is to skin off all that aromatic rind and infuse it into a sugar-water syrup. Use this lemony-sweet syrup to sweeten fresh lemon juice to taste. Finish with just enough water, sparkling or still, to make it drinkable over ice.

Even better, try rubbing a few heads of fresh lavender into your sugar, or infuse the blossoms into your lemon-rind syrup. If you’re really lucky, all this—Meyer lemons, lavender, white peaches—could come from your own garden right now. Lavender white peach Meyer lemonade: effete, yes, but oh, oh, so good.

1. Peel off the rind of your lemons in long strips. In a small saucepan over medium heat, dissolve sugar in water. When sugar is dissolved, add lemon rinds and lavender flowers, if using. Bring to a slow simmer and let bubble gently for 5 minutes.

I decided to start my mocktail quest off with that simplest of drinks, the gin and tonic. With multiple nuances brought on by using different gins, it’s probably my favorite cocktail — biting, tart, and tinged with bitterness, it reminds me of myself on my best days.

Now, the main problem with the gin and tonic mocktail is the complete lack of, well, gin, so it is key that the tonic be the shining star for once. Have I bludgeoned you to death with my opinions on tonic? Yes, I know I have, so I will skip all that, because you now KNOW that Fever-Tree is the only way to go, and head right to the gin conundrum.

Enter DRY Soda. Well, the DRY Sodas are a bit sweet for me to call myself a big fan, but that doesn’t mean I was against trying their newest juniper flavor as a gin stand-in. Nothing could be more simple than to measure out two ounces of Juniper DRY and mix it with Fever-Tree tonic and a wedge of lemon. (Or a lime if your intro to gin and tonics didn’t start in a British pub in the late 90s as mine did.)

The result? Well, maybe it’s a the taste equivalent of a placebo effect, but I was pretty damn happy with my faux gin and tonic. All I was after was something refreshing with a non-alcoholic edge to it, and the Fever-Tree tonic definitely provides that needed edge.

The only problem with this mocktail is that the lack of alcohol means I suck them down with abandon and then spend the rest of the night wearing down a path between the living room and the bathroom. Oh, well, at least I’m hydrating myself!

My life of late has been lubricated by tap water, sparkling water, tonic water, juice, tea, and the occasional Coke or root beer. Much in the way I once chased the best cocktails around town, I now track down whatever can slake my thirst minus the buzz.

I’ve tasted alcohol-free wines and beers. I’ve dabbled — with some success — in making mocktails and sipping sparkling teas. But now? I’ve found the world’s most perfect water.

Grapefruit is my favorite citrus fruit. It’s also my favorite juice, favorite Izze, favorite Fizzy Lizzy, and favorite lip balm, so when I found grapefruit La Croix sparkling water in Minneapolis, it started a deep craving. Since I found it on the official site, I knew that grapefruit Perrier existed, but I never saw it in stores.

I must’ve been babbling about it a helluva lot, because the other night Mathra came home from Safeway and with great triumph and excitement voila’d six bottles of Pink Grapefruit Perrier. (Zee labelle, eet iz so so Franche and calls eet “Pamplemousse Rosé”)

“Ooooh!” I cooed, stroking the metallic pink label, “You found it!”

Is it weird to describe sparkling water as having a bouquet? Because this one totally does. Without verging into grandma’s perfume territory, it’s fresh and floral and not as fake smelling as the lemon or lime Perrier flavors. Ditto for the taste. The stringent grapefruit is refreshing, not at all cloying, and it’s simply…Perrier perfection. It’s the the ideal antidote to hauling 20 extra pounds around in 102° heat.

(For the record, I never found any Perrier flavor to smell or taste fake, but after Pamplemousse Rosé entered the picture, a deep disdain for poor lemon and lime was sadly cultivated.)

Safeway had 750 mL bottles on sale 4 for $10.00, and after downing 6 bottles in two days during the April Hellwave of 2009, we went back and cleaned out the rest of their stock.

Given the whole pregnancy thing, I’ve been sourcing non-alcoholic alternatives to my usual alcoholic libations. Cocktails aren’t too hard to fake with mocktails, because while you may miss the satisfying bite of the gin or the underlying sweetness of rum, at least you can still make it a tasty drink with high-end mixers, homemade syrups, fresh herbs, and fruit, right?

It’s harder when it comes to wine and beer. My findings on near-beer will follow in another post, but first I tried to find a sub-in for my comforting glass of red Italian table wine with dinner. With that goal in mind, I bought a bottle of Ariel Cabernet Sauvignon, and threw in a bottle of Sutter Home’s Fre “sparkling wine beverage” for kicks.

Ariel Cabernet Sauvignon
I saddled my plate with wild mushroom ravioli in a homemade chorizo ragu and poured myself a glass of the CaberNOT Fauxvignon. The smell was promising, if a little weak, so I forked up a mouthful of pasta and paired it with the wine.

Yish.

Pros:
1. Having a selection of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Chardonnay (instead of just “red” or “white”) was enough to convince me Ariel knew what they were doing. So, kudos on that marketing scheme, Ariel.

2. Personal edification bonus points: I finally taste-experienced the definition of wine “structure.” More to the point, I now know what it means when there’s such a complete lack of structure that the only thing keeping the wine vertical is the stem of the glass. Call it the Joey Potter of wines.

Cons:
1. If you drank a glass of actual wine, then swirled water around in the same glass to catch all the dregs, and then drank that water, you’d have a very good idea of what Ariel CaberNOT Fauxvignon tastes like.

Fre Sparkling
I was all set to let loose with another scathing name and derogatorily dub this non-alcoholic sample “Shampagne,” but it’s actually really quite good. While called a “brut,” it’s actually slightly sweeter than a full alcohol brut would be, but it’s not sweet, either. Nor is it too washed out. Also, it has a fine and elegant mousse of bubbles, which makes it even more enjoyable as a champagne stand-in.

It puts me in mind of the heady days of my youth when Ann and Jane and I would traipse down to Milt’s Grocery on Lake Street and spend our allowance on bottle after bottle of Catawba juice. After this pleasant surprise, I’d be willing to try the rest of the Fre line.

Navarro Grape Juice
I do like the Navarro grape juices — made from their Pinot Noir and Gewurtztraminer grapes — but both offerings tend to be overwhelmingly, cloyingly, throat-chokingly sweet. A splash of tonic water or club soda with a squirt of lemon or lime vastly improves them for me.

I far prefer Navarro’s Verjus, because it’s way more intense and sour. It’s supposed to be used in cooking, I think, but I just chill it and drink it. The Verjus can also be cut with club soda or tonic water if you find the flavors too much for you. Plus, that sort of treatment really stretches the bottle in these financially tight times.

Though findable by the glass in local restaurants — Zuni and Nopa, for sure — in order to start your own juice cellar at home, you just might have to force yourself to drive up to the beautiful Anderson Valley and buy yourself a case. (If so, I recommend a night or two at the Sea Rock Inn. Affordable with views of the ocean from cozy cabins and a complimentary split of local wine in your room, this place is a very special retreat.)

“Let me tell you, I have never met such a beverage. Sparkling ciders — both grape and apple — have never been dry enough for me. They’re tasty and juicy but that’s what they really are: juice. The sweetness that overwhelms these teetotalling options is not found in the limpid depths of a perfectly chilled flute of Golden Star.

The uniquely refined sour flavor in Golden Star comes from the fermentation process, and though you might think the heady florals of jasmine might turn your tipple into Grandmother’s eau de cologne, but it really doesn’t. It’s simply a remarkably balanced glass. It’s simply a remarkable drink.”

Golden Star Tea is now available at Whole Foods in 750 mL bottles; it was my “champagne” over the holiday season.

Fizzy Lizzy Cranberry Juice
Of all the Fizzy Lizzy juices, the cranberry is the most wine-like. Tart to the point of having an almost fermented-tasting sourness, this has become my preferred tipple of an evening.

Vignette Wine Country Sodas
Effervescent and dry, they’re really not bad at all. Vignette offers Pinot Noir, Rose, and Chardonnay. The Chardonnay reminds me of pear cider and is my favorite of the three, thirst-quenching versions.

Sin Vino
Available in “Gold” and “Red,” these juices are only so-so. They’re overly syrupy, not very complex, and while they might make it into a mocktail, they don’t really do it for me in a glass on their own.